


All You Let Me Take

by LyraDraconis (NamiSwaannn)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A little angst, F/M, One Shot, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Touch-Starved, a dash of smut, a little fluff, a sprinkle of horror, non Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamiSwaannn/pseuds/LyraDraconis
Summary: Draco has struggled to find meaning in life after the war. No one was more shocked than him that a reason would come in the form of Hermione Granger.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 134





	All You Let Me Take

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Onyx_and_Elm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onyx_and_Elm/gifts).



> This story is dedicated to [Onyx_and_Elm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onyx_and_Elm/pseuds/Onyx_and_Elm) .
> 
> You and your stories are loved and cherished. Always.
> 
> Side note: this story came out as first person which is a format I don't typically use. I know it is not a favorite for many so I hope you will forgive me for that and give it a chance anyway.

Every Friday from six to eight pm. 

These two hours every week were probably the only moments I was somewhat happy to be alive. Every other day was just like the last. Six days of a bleak existence. Six days of darkness only to be temporarily brightened when I woke at the end of the week in anticipation for my two hours of light before being plunged back into the grey void I had long grown accustomed to. 

The last seven years following the war were hard, putting it lightly. Devastating if one wanted a modicum of truth, in which case, most didn't. Especially not from me. Or perhaps there were people who did. Perhaps the sordid details of my sorry life and the struggles I went through daily would brighten their day, in which case, I'd be more than happy to share. It could be another form of restitution, not that I wasn't paying enough out the arse already. 

In the last seven years I served two in Azkaban, buried my parents and two of the only people I ever called friend, been ostracize from nearly every social circuit in the wizarding world, turned away from most establishments, treated like a social pariah and forced to pay what most would consider a hefty fine each month. I had a three more years of restitution payments to go. I was lucky enough, I suppose, that even a decade of paying what, to any other person, would be an exorbitant fee would not put a sizable dent in my inheritance. 

I didn't much care. Not anymore. There really wasn't a lot I cared about in regards to myself and it was exactly what I deserved. In fact, I deserved more hardship if I was being honest. 

The terms of my probation dictated I stay in Britain until my restitution was fully paid. I spent many nights fantasizing about where I would go when my probation was lifted. Somewhere far away from the place where everyone knew me and what I did. Maybe a place that was never cold and didn't rain nearly every other day. 

I'd imagine a little hut on a beach with few to zero inhabitants. It was a nice dream but deep down I knew I would never leave. I deserved every scowl and sneer. Every remark, whispered and shouted, that I should be rotting in jail. 

They were right. I should.

Five years after my release and I still felt I owed much to this society that despised me and Malfoy's always paid their debts. These days, a recent development in the last few months, I was allowed to patron a few establishments again. Not many but certainly more than five years ago.

I'd like to think it was through patience, hard work and every single drop of charm I had that I'd manage to be allowed through their doors again though I suspect it may have been my galleons. Gold spends no matter who it comes from. 

With my shunned status and travel ban there were few places I could go. In addition to that, I had a lot of time on my hands. Once, a few years ago, I tried to find a job just to fill the long days but, of course, no one would hire me. It was comical really. The last living Malfoy, deigning to work as an employee for the first time in generations and every potential employer wouldn't even spit on him.

I was forced to find another way to occupy my time so I opened an apothecary. Not because I needed the money, of course. Being the sole heir of the Malfoy and Black lines, my inheritance was more than I knew what to do with. Even after giving the Black inheritance to my aunt Andromeda to do what she wished for herself and Teddy, I would never be poor unless I chose to be. 

I opened it because I needed to do _something_ with my life. I didn't want to waste the second chance I was given being the clichéd spoiled heir born with a goblin wrought spoon in his mouth, spending money recklessly on things he did not need. What I desperately needed was purpose and a way to give back that had more meaning than just tossing money at organizations in need, though I did that too. With that in mind, I decided to turn my love for potions into a career. 

The one and only thing I still had full confidence in was my potion making abilities. I had my godfather to thank for that. He left me everything which really wasn't much on paper. The small house was worth close to nothing post war, sparsely furnished and nearly falling apart in disrepair. However, within that small hovel, hidden unseen by everyone but the inheritor, was a potion lab that was nothing short of a potioneers dream.

Every book he'd ever read, every note he'd ever taken, every ingredient he'd ever collected, and every potion he had left over within his stores was in that room, carefully waiting for his arrival in stasis that released as soon as he opened the door. The smells brought him to tears. It was the first moment since his release that he felt something familiar.

Before the only thing one could worry about was survival, potions was his favorite subject. Combined with the infinite amount of time I had on my hands in the last five years I managed to achieve a mastery through a mail order school outside of Britain. Apparently foreign magical countries could care less about the war that raged in England so long as you could pay their fee.

I knew I was good at what I did. My potions were well made, potent, and could be cost efficient if you did it right. What else did I have to focus all my time on but spending every moment making sure I was doing it right? I came up with the grand idea to make and sell important, but overpriced potions that were less assecible to families in need for what turned out to be a fraction of the cost larger apothecaries charged if you sold them at base cost. I made no profit off them at all. I didn't wish to. Hadn't I taken enough? This would be the way I could give back by making an actual effort. I figured if I sold a quality product at the lowest price it wouldn't matter who sold them. Even me.

It was tough finding a building since I refused to take a storefront in Knockturn Alley, the only place that treated me no different than before the war. I didn't want any association with that area and what is was still known for. 

It took more time and persuasion than I was prepared for, however, money talks and after agreeing to pay four times the amount the building was worth, I finally procured a small store on the outskirts of Diagon Alley, in one of the furthest points from the heart of the area. How foolish of me to think that would be the hardest hurdle to jump. 

Even dirt cheap products weren't enough to draw people in once they figured out who owned it. I brewed, packaged and sold my potions myself. As soon as someone walked in and saw me, they turned right back around. Years later and still no one wanted to be associated with a former Death Eater. I should have expected it but I didn't let it deter me. Besides I had nothing better to do than to sit and wait for someone to give me and my potions a chance. 

One month after I opened, I finally had my first customers who did not run away the moment they clapped eyes on me. 

On a rainy Friday, the bell rung signaling a new arrival. I looked up from the book on rare plants I was skimming to find two-thirds of the Golden Trio stepping into my store with the same determined look they had on their faces years ago when they showed up at my hearing to testify on my behalf. 

Seeing them again after seven years was like a blow to the gut. Especially her. I hadn't seen or spoke to them since the trial. Shock was too mild of a word to describe watching them tell the Wizengamot about my bravery in failing to kill Dumbledore and refusing to identify them to my psychotic aunt. 

Bravery was a stretch. Terror induced stupidity was more like it. I was terrified of having to watch them be tortured and killed in front of me. Like Ollivander. Like Burbage. Countless nameless victims. I knew I wouldn't be able to bear watching them suffer the same fate. To me, not identifying them was an act purely born from self-preservation. As far as Dumbledore, that was just sheer cowardice.

Once the war was over and Potter stood victorious, I knew what my fate would be and I was ready. I was fully prepared for the Kiss or at the very least life imprisonment. It was the least I deserved. Instead I was given a fairly light sentence in comparison to what I was expecting.

Because of them. 

I still wasn't sure how grateful I was given the half life I was now living but I could still, at the very least, thank them for fighting for me when they certainly didn't have to. 

Once we got past the awkward greetings and I managed to give them an equally awkward thank you and a shame drenched apology for all those years in Hogwarts and my role in the war, we managed to have a civil conversation, albeit short. 

We exchanged a little small talk, they each bought a few potions and took their leave. Afterwards I sat in disbelief that Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were my first customers. I thought that would be the last time I'd see them but a week later, much to my shock, she came back alone.Our greetings were much less awkward but still rather stilted but we still managed to speak for fifteen minutes or so about my potions and the experimental ones I was working on. 

She was very much the same she was in school. Full of questions, her eyes alight with curiosity. She even asked me about the book I was reading when she visited last. I told her as much as she wanted to hear, lost in the way she looked at me. Finding myself trying to keep her there so that she'd speak to me a little longer.

It worked for a bit, but as I listed off the ingredients of a new potion I was developing, her eyes so full of enthused interest it was like being fed support and understanding through transference. She suddenly gasped in surprise, snapping me out of what was turning into a stupor. She glanced at her watch, smiled at me apologetically as she wrapped up the conversation politely before buying my calming draught, citing work in the ministry could be chaotic at times. She left just as suddenly.

She was out the door before I could utter another word. Likely she had realized she had spent the better part of an hour chatting with an ex DeathEater personally responsible for her torment.

Once the residual shock of that bizarre conversation wore off, I realized I hadn't had such a long conversation without mild to ill concealed reluctance or outright hostility in years. I hadn't realized how much I missed it. I found myself wondering if I'd ever have one again because surely she wasn't coming back. 

I was wrong. She returned the next Friday and purchased a dreamless sleep. Once again talking for hours. Once again bustling out randomly. The next week, she returned again, purchasing a pepper up. During every visit she spoke to me like I was just another person, asking me how I was (I never told her the truth, not wanting her sympathy or pity), was I making anything new? How was business? Read any new books?

Perfunctory questions but always delivered in a warm way that always got me to open myself up a little to her. Our conversations grew longer and longer over time until it was a regular occurrence for her to stay beyond closing time. 

It was beyond bizarre at first when I took the time to really think on it. Though I was grateful for the socialization, I couldn't understand why she kept coming back to talk to me of all people. Surely the golden girl had enough friends and acquaintances more than willing to spend time with her so she'd never have to lower herself to seek me out for company. 

I wanted to know why but I was too afraid to ask in fear that she would realize for herself how surreal this all was and stop coming. It only took about two months for me to want her to never stop. 

Spending time with her made me see how truly empty my life was before her appearance. Seeing and speaking to her every Friday had made me realize how lonely I truly was. Now that I remembered what it was like to be somewhat accepted I didn't want to lose the one person who was willing to speak to me like I was human. At this point it didn't matter that it was the one person who should hate me the most. 

It also didn't matter that it reignited the small flame I harbored for her after fourth year that was effectively snuffed out in our sixth. I was terrified that Voldemort would at any point sift through my mind and find my fixation on the one muggle-born he wanted dead more than any other. I locked those feelings away with occlumency and pushed them so far down I had forgotten about them until our weekly chats became a regular occurrence. 

Spending so much time with her and getting to know her in ways I never imagined I would unlocked that long forgotten box. I forgot how her eyes sparked when she spoke of things that interested her, how she gesticulated with her hands when she spoke, how everything was an opportunity to learn.

How beautiful she is. 

Despite my efforts against it, I knew I was becoming once again tragically fixated on her except this time I was perfectly fine with nothing ever coming of it. Just her being so willing to forgive me and speak to me like a friend was more than enough. More than I deserved.

I knew all this and kept my distance. I did nothing to tip off the fact that what I felt for her had become anything more than whatever it was we were. I still wasn't sure so I didn't question it. But I couldn't stop myself from taking everything she was gracious enough to give me like the greedy man I was. I always have and would always be selfish. 

At the beginning she would stay and we'd have long winded conversations without being interrupted once. However, after a few weeks of her first arrival, people started to come, interrupting our discussions. I had a feeling she had something to do with this influx of new customers judging by the smug smile that curved her lips when they arrived. Griffindors and their inherent need to do good.

I woild reluctantly abandoned her to help them find what they need and check them out. The fact that I was the least bit resentful about leaving her to finally sell the products I spent innumerable hours painstakingly creating was a red flag I chose to ignore. 

After a few months it was becoming more and more common for me to be so busy I wouldn't have time to engage with her at all. At that point, I've wanted to ask if we could see each other outside my shop for weeks, on a purely platonic level of course. I couldn't bring myself to do it for far too many reasons. 

Her being seen with me would do nothing but hurt her even if I was marginally more tolerated than I was when I was first released from Azkaban. Plus, who did I think I was to ask Hermione Granger on what would be essentially a date? While I would never delude myself into considering the possibility of her seeing me in anything beyond this friendly association, the implication was still there and I didn't want that to scare her off. 

Another worry was the thought that she would stop coming simply because we never had the time anymore. 

I thought my fear was realized when she came one day to find my shop uncharacteristically packed. She caught my eye and gave me a big smile. I knew what that smile said. She was happy to finally see me busy. She gave me one last smile before leaving the store.

I thought that was it. She did what she had to do. My shop finally had a common influx of customers now that the Golden Girl and The Chosen One had publically endorsed my shop. That was the only explanation for why she was coming in the first place. Now that her job was done, of course she wasn't coming back. 

Over the weekend and throughout the week I was nearly in a state of panic wondering what I had to do to continue seeing her. Outside of when I was brewing she was the only source of joy in my life. 

I tried to write a missive to send by owl but after countless drafts I gave up. I couldn't find the words that conveyed how i felt without revealing too much. 

By Wednesday I contemplated visiting the ministry, a place I'd only been to a handful of times since my trial when I was struggling to procure a storefront. Those visits were torturous. The looks, sneers, and insults I received was something I could do without. The thought of going back, to go through all that again, to be seen by people who hated and wished me incarcerated or worse triggered the same feeling I had when I was awaiting my sentence, certain I was going to Azkaban to die. 

Despite how badly I wanted to see her and ensure she wouldn't stop visiting me even if it was only two hours a week, I couldn't do it. I was not surprised. I was still a coward. 

As it turned out I didn't have to go to her. She showed up the next Friday right at closing time and stayed and talked with me for hours. After that, she always showed up at six and would stay until eight. She'd stay later, she told me but Crookshanks, her familiar who was surprisingly still alive, got grumpy if he had to wait too long for dinner. 

How far I had fallen that I was jealous of a cat. 

By then that reignited flame grew into an outright inferno and that frightened me. Harboring these feelings for someone who would never feel the same was a level of stupidity I never imagined I would fall into. 

How idiotic of me to even entertain the notion of wanting more than she chose to give me. Hermione was everything I wasn't. So fierce yet so soft. So brave and so selfless. The epitome of light while I felt like all I had within myself was darkness. In truth, I wouldn't what light was if it wasn't because of her. 

This woman was out of my league in every way imaginable. And I couldn't help but be fool enough to want her. All the things I'd done. To her. To her loved ones. To countless others. So much death because of my actions. So much blood on my hands. Her just being in my presence sullied her. And me being in hers, to be so close yet so far, was more than I should ever experience. And I dare to even think of even touching her?

But I couldn't help it. With every visit, every laugh she'd grace me, every discovery of something we have in coming, everytime her eyes would light up when I show recognition in subjects he could tell most didnt know about. Each time she'd look at me and smile, like I wasn't her ex bully, a former Death Eater, a member of the family that tortured and terrorised her and her friends, but as a person, I would fall a little bit deeper. 

It was a punishment of my own creation, falling in love with her and never being able to tell her. I accepted it as part of my penance. I truly felt I hadn't suffered enough. Out of all the ways I suffered the consequences of my past decisions, this one was by far the most troubling. I was growing frighteningly dependent on our Friday night chats, as she called it, and I feared it was already too late to go back.

It was a subtle agony but far more pleasant than anything else going on in my life. It was still worth being closer to her than I ever dreamed possible. My greed and apparent masochism wouldn't allow me to back away and leave her alone as I should have. Despite trying to keep my distance, she was becoming, if she already wasn't, a lifeline. Just the thought of putting a stop to her visits, knowing how bleak my days would be without her, was physically painful. 

And who was to say ending our chats was up to me? What was to stop her from one day waking up and realizing she'd been spending so much time with her childhood bully, who did abhorrent things? What was to stop her from ceasing all contact with no warning?

These were my thoughts every Thursday night, wondering if the next day would be the day she decided she had enough fraternizing with me and move on with her life. Tonight was no exception. 

I laid in my bed and stared up at my canopy, willing myself to go to sleep. I tossed and turned before finally giving in and taking a calming draught. I fell asleep nearly immediately.

I woke up to the sensation of my bed dipping. I opened my eyes and gasped.

Granger was naked and crawling towards me in my bed. I was instantly hard. There were so many questions running through my sleep addled mind but the only sound I could make was a strangled gasp in my throat as she crawled over me, the tips of her breasts brushing my bare chest. I realized I was naked as well which was odd. I always slept in pajamas. Did she spell away my clothing? How did she get here?

"Draco," she whispered. The sound of her saying my given name, staring down at me with her riot of curls shrouding us and her soft skin pressed against mine made the clambering voices in my head quiet immediately. Gods, I could come right now. My cock was already leaking.

Was skin always so soft. I couldn't recall, it had been so long. My tongue finally reconnected with my brain. I had to bite my tongue as she lowered her body slightly, brushing springy wisps of curls against my erection. I couldn't help the groan that escaped my mouth. It was almost too much. Her touch, her heat, her breath, her eyes. They were all on me and I could die from all the sensations that were hitting me at once. My body reacted in a way it hadn't in almost a decade. I gasped in shock as ripples of pleasure radiated from ever point she touched me. I needed to know what was happening before all rationale left me. 

"What are you doing here?" I managed to ask, my voice thick and embarrassingly needy. There was no sense hiding my arousal. It was plain as day, pointing right at her.

She gave me a secretive smile before she slid down, allowing my cock to slide up her smooth body before nestling between her breasts that she pressed together with her arms. Her soft flesh encasing my hardness was almost too much. My jaw clenched as I tried to calm myself, a soft whine squeezing through my teeth. She laughed softly, her penetrating gaze pinning me in place. 

"You want me." A statement. Not a question. 

"You know I do," I rasped in a rush of held breath. I had no capacity to lie to her and it wouldn't have mattered if I did. My need for her was all too obvious.

"You've suffered so much," she murmured, kissing the bottom half of the scar Potter gifted me with all those years ago. I groaned again, my cock twitching between her breasts. Her lips were so soft as she kissed down my abdomen. She suddenly pressed her arms closer, her flesh squeezing me tighter. I almost shouted. 

"It doesn't matter," I choked out. It had been so long since I had been touched and to be touched so intimately was overwhelming. The pleasure was so staggering I started to feel light headed.

I could feel her heartbeat against my cock. It began to throb against her in time with her rhythm. I felt my eyes flutter shut as I prepared to surrender to whatever she wanted from me. They snapped back open when she lifted my left arm, turning it so that the Dark Mark that had faded oy slightly faced her. I watched, wary, as she studied it for a moment before looking back at me. Her amber eyes glowed in the semi darkness. I couldn't look away. 

"I can ease your suffering," she whispered.

"I'd rather you didn't," I whispered back, almost afraid of what she would offer as help.

"Why not?"

"I don't deserve that from you. I deserve every bit suffering."

"Let me help you," she implored. 

"No," I said with as much resolution I could muster. Of course I actually wanted whatever she chose to give me but I couldn't allow myself to accept. I still owed her much. I couldn't owe her more.

She ignored me and I fought the relief that flooded me to no avail. She lowered her head and gently kissed the snake head of the mark. My breath caught in my throat. I hadn't let anyone see it let alone touch it. The sensation of her lips against it was intensely pleasurable. I tried to pull my arm free of her but her hold was strong. 

"Let me help you," she repeated.

"No-" the word became a moan as she traced the mark with her tongue. The feeling of her licking it... _Merlin_... My cock twitched again between her breasts. I threw my head back, gasping. I tried once again to half heartedly pull free but I didn't want to be free. I wanted her to keep going. I wanted her to trace it in its entirety. I wanted her to _suck_ it. 

I was disgusting.

"Please...stop," I gasped out as I tried to rein in the desire and arousal with an equal amount of self-disgust that was coursing through me.

She continued to ignore me as she ran her tongue over the skull. It felt so incredibly good despite how utterly wrong it was. I looked down to plead with her once again but the words died in my throat. I was unable to tear my eyes away from her small, pink tongue trailing over the black lines. She looked up at me as she began to suck just like I had wanted her to. The feeling went straight to my cock pulling an involuntary, guttural groan from my throat. My eyes rolled up in my head as I clutched the sheet in the fist of my free hand.

It felt so good. It shouldn't feel so good.  
Why did it feel so good?

Without my consent, my hips began to move, thrusting my cock between her soft breasts. She moaned, the sound vibrating against my skin through her chest. My hips jerked sharply against her in reaction. She was going to make me come. A wave of self loathing swept over me but I couldn't stop. It felt too bloody good. 

"Please, Granger. Stop," I begged, my voice raw and hoarse. My body moved in complete contradiction to my words. She had to be the one to stop this for I was too lost to the sensations to be the one to put an end to it. Her lips and tongue continued moving over the mark then she began to suck harder. I cried out, my thrusting becoming more desperate. Merlin, I was going to come. 

I helplessly watched as she sucked and licked my skin with more vigor, her breasts encasing my cock like a soft, tight glove as I rutted uncontrollably against her.

It felt so good. So fucking good. 

She rolled up her eyes to look up at me, sliding her upper body against me. A pathetic sound escaped my lips. Stopping her was no longer a thought. My free hand released my sheets to fist in her hair, my eyes frantically drinking in the sight of my cock moving between her breasts, her pillowy lips and tongue against my arm. 

But there was something wrong with her lips. I stared at them in a daze, my bollocks tightening, my breath coming in harsh pants. What was wrong with her lips? Finally I realized they were slowly changing color. 

Horror flushed through me as I realized the black lines on my arm were bleeding into her soft pink flesh. My blood went cold. I released her hair like it burned me and stared in rising terror as veins of black began tracing up her face as though she was sucking the mark from my body into hers.

"No..." I choked out, making another weak attempt at pulling away. She held strong and sucked harder. I moaned helplessly, my hips moving frantically against her. 

"Granger _please_ don't. Stop it!" I begged. 

She wouldn't stop. The black veins continued to move insidiously up her cheeks towards her eyes and Merlin help me, I couldn't stop thrusting. I couldn't stop seeking release as terror, arousal and self-hate battled in my body. 

I was a monster. I was poison. Always had been. How dare I assume I was worthy of her presence? This was my fault. I tainted her. I was pulling her into the darkness with me and I was in despair. 

The black began to bleed into her eyes as she continued to suck and lick. My hips still moved as if they didn't belong to me. I weakly tried once again to pull my arm free but my attempts were half hearted at best. 

I couldn't stop if my life depended on it. I was so close. So close. 

A moment later a particularly rough suck sent a bolt of pleasure to my cock. She looked up at me. The white of her eyes had turned black and the mark was gone. I sobbed but I still couldn't stop thrusting against her even as her black stare bore into me. 

She pulled back to smile at me, her teeth gray and decaying, before ducking her head to lick at the head of my cock moving frenetically between her breasts with a black, forked tongue. My body finally found the release it was desperately seeking as I screamed in terror and ecstasy. 

  


I bolted upright in my bed, choking out her name, my voice hoarse and broken. I gasped for breath, clutching my chest. I was covered in sweat, my sheets tangled around my legs. There was a wet patch on the front of my pajama bottoms. I had came in my sleep.

I ignored the wave of revulsion that came over me as I slowly started to calm down. I pulled the sleeve of my sleep shirt up. The mark was still there. I fell back on my bed with a sigh of relief. Never in all the days since I took the mark had I been so relieved to see it. 

I picked up my wand from my bedside table and casted a scourgify on myself then tossed it to the side. I stared at my canopy as I waited for my heart rate to slow. 

I was used to nightmares. I'd been having them ever since sixth year. The frequency had diminished over the years, though every few months they'd make an unwelcome appearance. Usually they involved Voldemort's noseless face and lifeless eyes, or Aunt Bella's maniacal laugh. Hermione had been the star of more than a few of them. Her pain filled screams ringing in my ears when I awoke drenched in sweat and panting in fear. 

Sometimes I go through periods where I'd have them frequently for months before they receded again. Before Hermione showed up I was a couple weeks into a flare up. They stopped right after her first visit. In fact, I hadn't had any nightmares since she began her visits several months ago until tonight. I wondered how I hadn't realized that until now. 

I tried not to think about it but the images were burned into my brain. Granger naked. Touching me. Kissing me. Letting me fuck her tits. Just to be infected by my dark mark. Out of all the nightmares I've had, this one was by far the most terrifying and so unlike any I had before. I could see the dream for what it was. My subconscious was telling me what I already knew but refused to accept. 

I didn't deserve her presence in my life. I deserved her forgiveness and kindness even less. That dream only confirmed what I had been telling myself from the start. She deserved better than to have my darkness anywhere near her. 

I knew what I had to do. What I should have done ages ago. My selfishness knew no bounds when it came to her. Just being around her filled the void inside me that I was unaware of until she showed up. I would have continued to greedily take anything she'd give me.

Like a black hole I would have sucked every ounce of light within her if I allowed our meetings to continue. As loathe as I was to do it, I had to put a stop to them. 

The thought of never seeing her again made a dull pain twist in my gut. How was I to go back to life without her? 

I couldn't bear the thought of ending things face to face. I mustered up the courage to finally send an owl to prevent her from coming. I'd come up with some poor excuse as to why our meetings had to cease.

I knew I was taking a coward's approach but this way was better. If anything, her receiving my request via owl for her to not visit anymore would anger her enough for her to cease her visits without even a response. I didn't want her to hate me. The thought alone threatened to crack my already brittle heart into two but I saw no other way. 

I dragged myself out of bed and walked to my study to write out the letter and send it out immediately. The sooner I do it the better. 

There was no point in going back to sleep once my owl, Orion, carried off my missive. I showered and dressed and flooed straight to my shop, getting to work on a new potion I'd been working on in my lab until it was time to open. 

By the time I flipped the sign to closed I was exhausted. It was a busy day which any other time would have been great but the knowledge that I wouldn't see Granger today or ever again left a hollow feeling in my chest.

I was in the process of extinguishing the lights when a sharp knock came from my door. Hope flared in my chest and I struggled to douse it. 

No one knocked on my door after closing. No one but her. 

Sure enough Hermione stood there with a look of determination on her face that was very similar to the look she wore when she first stepped through my shop door.

"I received your owl this morning," she stated in place of a greeting when I let her in. 

I could only look at her, unsure of what to say. 

I honestly had no plan for if she showed up. I should have known a mere letter would never stop Hermione Granger. If anything it just inflamed her curiosity. I wondered if deep down I knew it wouldn't work and hoped for her to show up anyway.

I started occluding immediately. When I failed to respond she kept going. 

"I don't understand, Malfoy. I thought we were becoming friends," she said, hurt clear in her voice. 

That destroyed the walls I was building in my mind in a flash. I never wanted to hurt her again and here I was doing just that. I was so sure my absence in her life wouldn't be any more than a passing thought for her.

"We _were_ becoming friends," I agreed, too keyed up to come up with proper misdirection or an outright lie.

She tilted her head in confusion. "Then why?"

_Because I can't be friends with you when I have dreams about fucking your breasts, infecting you with my dark mark and watching it corrupt you._

"It's been fun, yeah? But I know you have better things to do," I answered instead of the frightening truth. 

Her brows furrowed like they always did when she was working out a difficult problem. As always, I found it endearing. I looked away. Looking at her only made it harder just like I thought it would.

"Look, I've enjoyed the chats. Truly. I just think it would be in our best interest if we stopped before it became too complicated."

"Complicated in what way?"

she asked, puzzled.

I looked at her again. "You're a bright witch supposedly. Do you mean it never occured to you what it would look like you coming to my shop every Friday?" I came up with rather quickly. 

She looked away, "I cast a disillusionment charm every now and again so no one would know how often I come."

Of course she did. Why had I thought she would allow anyone to see her regularly come to my shop?

"I did that because I didn't want to draw too much unwanted attention on you. The press still photographs me every chance they get. I didn't want my celebrity or tabloid scandals to interfere with your shop. It wasn't because I wanted to hide our relationship," she said quickly as if reading my thoughts. 

The word relationship echoed in my mind. A tide of emotions swept through me. Elation at the thought, disappointment at the reality, despondency when I remembered why we were having this discussion in the first place.

In typical Granger fashion, she needed the where's, why's and how's and wouldn't be deterred until she got them. What better way to send her running than the actual truth? I took a fortifying breath. Here it was. What would finally drive her away.

"Hermione," her name tasted different when I was saying it and she was there to hear it. Her eyes snapped back to me, surprise widening her eyes, "I see that I must be honest with you in order for you to understand why our chats must end. I've become dependent on your visits. Your visits are the only bit of joy I've managed to have in a very long time. The time between our visits are getting darker and darker. I'm afraid one day I won't be able to function at all if you should ever decide to stop seeing me. That fear has manifested into extremely vivid nightmares." 

"Well congratulations. You've just succeeded in ensuring I will never stop seeing you," she said as if making a point. 

I closed my eyes and turned around. Had she always been so unreasonable? I didn't want to give her details about the nightmare but I felt I had very little choice. My shoulders sagged in resignation. This was what I wanted, to scare her away, but I didn't want revealing how monstrous I truly was to be the reason. 

"You don't understand. Terrifying, _erotic_ nightmares where you become as dark as me. I've always known I wasn't worthy of your presence. I'd like to end this now before I fall any deeper."

"No," 

she said with finality.

"Did you hear a word I just said?"

he asked incredulously. Was she deaf?

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin in defiance. "I don't want to stop visiting you."

I huffed in frustration. Who knew I had to fight her on this? Especially after revealing the truth. I ran a hand through my hair in agitation. "Are you under the impression that I am made of stone?" I finally asked her. 

"No. What? I don't understand,"

she said, taken aback.

I felt my jaw clench before I sighed in defeat. How could I forget how stubborn she could be?

"If I keep seeing you like this I'm..."

"You'll what?" she prompted, when I trailed off.

I sighed again and ran my hands over my face in indecision. I was so conflicted. On one hand, her obstinance was infuriating yet I couldn't help the feeling of pride that flared within me at her fighting me to stay friends. That indicated I meant something to her, right? Even if it was just as a friend. 

My body was brimming from that feeling but I was determined to set her free of me. It was the least I could do for her. 

"Hermione. If we keep doing this I'm only going to want more," I finally revealed a half truth.

_I already want more._

She blushed and looked away from me for the first time since she arrived. Finally, I was getting to her.

"Maybe I want more too," she whispered so quietly I wasn't sure if I heard her right. 

I couldn't possibly have heard her right. If I did, she just told me she wanted more too and that was so far out of all the realms of possibilities I'd ever dreamt of. I was so shocked I took a step back from her. 

Her eyes widened in alarm. 

"Come again?" I managed to croak. 

She gave me that look that I knew well. It was as if I could see her pulling her courage from that infinite well of strength these Gryffindors all seemed to have. Her body seemed to fill with it as she stood straighter, prouder, stronger.

"I want more too. Did it never occur to you that I was coming here for a reason?"

"No, I could never figure out why you came here just to talk to me," I confessed, still in shock by what she was saying. 

"Draco," she started. 

My entire body hummed at hearing her say my given name for the first time. I realized then whatever she wanted from me she could have. Anything and everything I could obtain I would lay at her feet so that I could always hear her address me as such. 

"These talks with you have been the highlight of my week. I count down the days when I can come sit and have our chats. I don't have many opportunities to talk to someone about what interests me without boring them to tears. With you I can talk about anything, everything, and not only do you actually participate but I can tell they interest you too," she stopped talking to look at me nervously. "Or was I just assuming you were interested? Have I been bothering you and you've just been too polite to tell me?"

"No!" I said quickly, broken out of the daze her words put me in. I was still processing the fact that she said talking with me was the highlight of her week. 

She smiled in relief before that determination I was growing to love swept back over her face. 

"I wanted to ask you to coffee or dinner outside of your shop but I wasn't sure how you would respond. You never seemed interested. I was waiting for the right time."

I could only look at her, still unsure if this was just another dream, albeit far better than the one I had last night.

She wanted to see me outside of my shop. Just as I wanted to see her. My mind was in an absolute whirl. How much time had I wasted in my surety that she would never see me beyond the confines of our friendship?

I realized she hadn't spoken another word, only looking at me as if waiting. She had been doing all the talking while I stood there gaping at her like a fool. I knew this would be my only chance and I would be loathed to waste such an opportunity. 

I tried to still my racing heart as I slowly, tentatively took her hand. It was small and warm and I suppressed a shiver at the contact. My first real human touch in seven years.

I cleared my throat and said the words I wanted to say for months. 

"Hermione, would you accompany me to dinner this evening?"

"No, I can't," she answered. I deflated in disappointment as I tried to release her but she tightened her grip, "I have to feed Crooks. Would you be interested in dinner at my place instead? I'll cook."

I looked at her in surprise to find her smiling at me. 

If this was a dream I hope to never wake up. I smiled back at her. The pure joy that flooded throughout me threatened to drown me. I struggled to contain it. 

"I would love to," I said, unable to suppress the grin that nearly split my face in two. 

The responding grin that she gave me was brighter than the noon sun and I hoped I would be able to keep putting it on her face. 

It was more than I could ever dream. More than I could ever deserve. 

As I followed her to the exit I made a silent promise to work everyday to prove to her that the chance she gave me would never be wasted and hopefully, one day, be a man who deserved to at the very least bask in her light. 

I was willing to dedicate my life to ensuring that came to pass for as long as she let me.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Love you all! Go spread some love today if you can.


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